5 Things That Never Happened to Shockshell
by Lady Shockbox
Summary: As the title says. These are the adventures of Shockshell, the deranged Decepticon Impala, and his human charge, Meghan, that thankfully never happened. Oneshot. OC Centric and self-insert. Part of the Shockshellverse. Prompts are of varying lengths.


Based off a prompt that I saw on TF2Chan and decided to try out for myself, starring my Bayverse Decepticon OC, Shockshell, and my shameless self-insert. Most the prompts are varying lengths because some came easier to write than others (case and point, I clearly have an unhealthy obsession with zombies). Also, I promise you guys that an update of _Wreck_ is coming very soon. I just got really distracted by school and video editing, because I have the sporadic attention span of a guinea pig and clearly can't focus on more than one project at a time. Warnings for Shockshell's love affair with English curse words and prompts of various lengths. Constrictive criticism is loved, and many thanks to UltimateEvilPerson for the beta, despite how she had to stay overnight at the hospital again. Woman, you are a godsend and one _highly_ dedicated lunatic. Hugs and kisses, darling.

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><p><strong>I created the sound of madness, wrote the book on pain<strong>

**Somehow I'm still here to explain**

**That the darkest hour never comes in the night**

**You can sleep with a gun, but when you gonna wake up and fight?**

_Sound of Madness_ – Shinedown

**i**

**The One Where Shockshell is an Autobot**

Optimus did not look particularly pleased. "It was a foolish mistake."

"I disagree, sir," Shockshell said.

The two of them were standing at the furthest threshold of field late that evening, watching oblivious traffic pass from the safe distance of nineteen solid acres. The darkness camouflaged the two mechs perfectly, despite the Autobot Prime's rather vivacious paintjob. Fireflies flickered in the motionless air and peepers drew out the evening chorus in a natural symphony of calming white noise. In total disregard to the saturnine conversation he and his commander were having, Shockshell felt particularly at ease.

Optimus did not feel the same way.

"You're putting her life in danger," the Prime said gravely, his voice deep and solemn. He was right too, Shockshell supposed. He certainly wouldn't have spent five plus hours driving from Washington D.C. to Salisbury, New Hampshire just to give him his opinion. "Do you disagree with that, too?"

"No," Shockshell sighed, reclining against a tree. It creaked underneath his weight but otherwise held firm. "But Meghan has proven herself to be a vital friend."

"I do not doubt the strength of your friendship with your human charge," Optimus replied. The distinct asceticism in his voice was temporarily gone, replaced with genuine weariness. A horse trailer drawn by a red pickup passed on the road, clattering the entire way and drowning out the sound of the Prime's sigh. "The boy who defeated Megatron in Mission City, Sam Witwicky, has been friends with Bumblebee for many long years. If your friendship with _your_ charge is just as strong, I doubt there would be anything that can come between you."

Although perhaps no intentionally, Optimus had let his words hang. Shockshell understood exactly what that meant and finished the unspoken words himself. "Except for Decepticons."

"Our presence on this world, although benevolent, brings unnecessary evil upon the humans," Optimus said sadly. "The Decepticons will stop at nothing to destroy us, and the humans caught in the crossfire will only end up as unnecessary casualties. It's the reason why Bumblebee distances himself from Sam during his time on duty. It's the same reason why you should heed my warning and do the same for Meghan."

"I understand what you mean, sir," Shockshell said tiredly, shuttering his azure optics and watching as another truck went by. It was another horse trailer. This time the sound of whinnying carried over the peepers and clamor of the trailer. The baying faded into the night as the truck curved up the hill, turned onto Old Coach Road, and disappeared into the darkness. "But there's no helping it now."

"I can have you reassigned."

That sent a pang of terror through Shockshell's spark. The thought of losing Meghan, never seeing her again, gripped him so hard that he had to make sure his voice didn't waver when he next spoke. "That won't be necessary, Optimus."

"It _is_ necessary to fully protect Meghan from harm," Optimus countered swiftly, rounding instantly on his soldier. "Unfortunately, I doubt Meghan would stand for such a drastic measure. From what I have seen of her, she is as tenacious as Sam Witwicky. Perhaps even more so. As much as I do not want to risk more human lives in this war, she has firmly rooted you in her life as well as yours. Separating you would be like severing the ties between Bumblebee and Sam… and I cannot bring myself to do that."

The realization of what the Prime was saying took a moment to fully sink into his mind. Quietly, Shockshell vented a deep sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir."

"Keep her safe." Optimus turned his head and offered a small smile. A rare expression from the Prime during these hard times, but sparkwarming all the same. "If you need anything, you know NEST's frequency."

"Yes sir." Shockshell saluted.

Optimus left after that, maneuvering over to Bog Road on the other side of the field and taking to his alt-mode, slowly turning onto Franklin and lumbering away with all the same clamor as the horse trailers. Shockshell did not move until he was completely out of sight. When the Chevrolet Impala made his way back through the field, sticking to the shadows to avoid unwanted attention from any late wandering humans, he shifted into vehicle-mode and settled on his tires in his usual parking spot in the driveway. It was a few more minutes later, as he was beginning to fall back asleep, that he heard the front door of the farmhouse open and footsteps. The senior Autobot scout checked his internal clock. It was two twenty-three in the morning.

"I thought you were sleeping," he said, half-scolding.

Meghan shrugged and gently touched the handle of his driver side door, spurring him to instantly open for her. "I was playing video games when I saw the big rig roll by. Then you left. That was Optimus Prime."

It wasn't a question. Clearly there was no point in trying to lie to her. "Yes. That was him."

"Are you in trouble?"

"Naw," he said warmly. He gently closed the door behind her and snaked the seatbelt around her in a light hug. "He just wanted to have a meeting."

"About me?"

He snorted. "How'd you guess?"

"I know it's a huge risk for us to be friends," she admitted. "Hell, I know it's an even bigger risk for me to even _know_ about you guys, but… but I'm glad my dad picked you up at that auction, and I wouldn't change that for the world."

"Thanks, kiddo."

He felt her hand brush over the Autobot sigil in his steering wheel. "Are you okay, Shell?"

"Yeah," he said softly, revving his engine quietly. The last thing he wanted to do was wake up her parents, oblivious to his actual identity. He made sure the seatbelt was secure when he pulled out of the driveway. Meghan voiced no opposition as he turned out onto the road and went the opposite direction Optimus had gone. "Feel like for a late night, drive?"

"With my best friend? Always."

The Autobot gunned his engine, and they were off.

**ii**

**The One Where Shockshell Kills Meghan**

"Fuck," he muttered. "Fuck fuckity fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

It was official: Barricade was going to kill him, and probably very violently at that. He barely managed to dodge getting a beating for the death of his _first_ human, but for killing his second? The punishment was undoubtedly going to be extreme. The Mustang interceptor was going to rip his spark out for sure – or worse.

This whole mess had been _her_ fault, he tried to internally haggle. He hadn't _meant_ to kill her. If she hadn't had been poking around his engine block, she wouldn't have probed that sensitive wire and made him cry out. _Then_ she wouldn't have gotten spooked and tried to run, and he wouldn't have needed to go chase after her. He never _meant_ to break her legs when she tried to jump away from him over that dumpster in the Salisbury town dump, and if she hadn't of started screaming, he wouldn't have felt so compelled to shut her up. By maiming her. Violently.

With a snort of disgust, he gave the mangled mess that was once a human a swift flick with his talon. The corpse – and it _was_ a corpse, not just a mess of bones and flesh, be however mutilated it was – jerked to the side with a wet squelch. Well, at least she wouldn't be telling anyone about him. Maybe Barricade could give him credit for _that_ much.

Growling, Shockshell cleaned his talons on the ground as best he could, leaving smears of crimson in the gravel. Oh well. He flung the remains of the human femme as far into the woods as he could, then transformed and tore out of the town dump the same way he came. Humans would find the girl's shredded remains sooner or later, and he needed to make as much distance as possible before they realized her car was missing too. The Autobots would figure out a Decepticon had done it, and so long as he was in New Hampshire all by himself, he would be NEST's next primary target. Shockshell enjoyed living more than being hunted and gutted by Ironhide or Sideswipe, so clearly it was Massachusetts or bust. He could hide in Boston easily enough. Barricade had survived in New York for _this_ long, hadn't he?

Shockshell snorted. "Life with that human probably would have sucked, anyways."

**iii**

**The One Where Shockshell Survives the Zombie Apocalypse**

As soon as Shockshell heard the screaming, he tore out of the alley and sped straight back, clipping an overturned Saturn and plowing through a twisted shopping cart.

Three days. For three grueling, terrible days, society had completely unraveled itself around them and led to the end of the world. The outbreak started in Detroit in the early evening preceding the first day of the Panic – the first outbreak in the United States, at least. It was nine 'o clock and a Saturday night. Shockshell could hear the deep throb of the lock-in party happening across Colby-Sawyer campus, but aside from that and the occasional bleatings of drunken humans, it was silent. The stern voiced anchor on WZID kept referring to the incident as some kind of riot tied to a political event that Shockshell cared absolutely nothing about, but when the Decepticon's bored internet browsing led him to discover that three more cities across the country were experiencing similar events, a red flag instantly shot up in his processor. All throughout the night, Shockshell browsed the worldwide web and listened to the radio with all the intensity of an Iacon data clerk, cataloging information and mentally marking where outbreaks occurred.

By midnight, there had been incidents of people displaying rabid, psychotic behavior in forty-three states. All of them were attacking people. They were extremely dangerous and very, _very_ hard to kill. Radio stations warned in rising frequency that the infected people were to be avoided at all costs and encouraging everyone to stay indoors. By four in the morning, similar incidents were finally being reported across the globe. Australia had completely shut down its airspace and all contact with Europe was lost. People on online internet forums – 4chan being a major hotspot − were referring to the sick humans as "undead" and that the only way to kill them was to destroy the brain. Head trauma, decapitation, shotgun blast: take your pick. Also, it was being strongly advised _not_ to get bitten. Those who came into contact with the sick humans were almost guaranteed to get sick and start attacking soon afterward. At five in the morning, several radio stations had turned into dead air. No one was playing music anymore.

It was six in the morning when news came that an outbreak had started in Concord, New Hampshire. Twenty minutes away. Shockshell immediately called Meghan on her cellphone.

She sounded like she had just woken up. "Shell? Christ, do you know what time−?"

"Pack your things _right_ _now_. Meet me outside your residence hall in five minutes. Do _not_ leave the building unless you see me outside the window."

He heard the creaking of bedsprings as she bolted upright. "What's wrong?"

He couldn't lie to her, but he couldn't quite bring himself to tell her the truth either. "Something major is happening. Just get your things and let's get out of here." He cut off communications.

It took a little longer than five minutes for him to get to the other side of the campus. The parking lot was mostly empty – most freshman went home for long weekends, including Meghan's other three roommates – but trying to merge into the steadily building traffic was a nightmare. Shockshell hadn't been the only one doing his research, apparently. _Everyone_ seemed to in a rush to leave, filing out of their homes with large suitcases and clogging the street with their clumsy cars. Shockshell barely managed to get onto the main road without having a Ford Fiesta rear-end him, and by the time he actually succeeded in turning into the main entrance to the college's upper campus, it was an entire eight minutes after his original phone call. The campus is bursting with life despite being a Sunday morning, and students − even faculty – were dragging their belongings out of the residence halls in a tizzy. It proved to be even _more_ hazardous trying to navigate through that first parking lot trying to reach Burpee Hall, where Meghan lived, without nearly bumping into something. Cars were practically flying out of the parking lot and the smell of burnt rubber and exhaust is nauseating even to _him_. Humans were arguing with one another profusely, no doubt to try and escape as well, and heeding him no mind as they darted in front of him obliviously. There was even a car accident in front of Colgate Hall involving one of the campus security SUVs and what appeared to be an upperclassman's shiny silver Explorer. A girl was standing off to the side on the quad, her makeup running and red-faced, as she desperately tried to dial someone on her cellphone. It looked like no one was answering. Shockshell almost felt bad for her, but he had his own human to worry about.

There were too many cars parked on the front lawn of Burpee for him to get in clear view of Meghan's dorm room window, so he settled for rolling down his windows and blasting Shinedown's _Sound of Madness_ instead. The ferocity of the volume caught several pedestrians on the sidewalk unawares, causing some to jump and the rest to spout swears at him. Shockshell allowed his hologram to flash them a two fingered salute in generous reply. It wasn't much, not by a long shot, but he knew Meghan would understand the message.

She came bounding out of Burpee Hall less than a minute later. She had to dodge around several burly upperclassmen and a CAMPO security officer in order to make her way down the front steps unscathed. With all the skittishness of a frightened rabbit, she frantically looked around for the source of the music and jogged over once she caught the gleam of his flashing high beams. Shockshell cringed and resisted the urge to gun forward when she was nearly sideswiped by a passing bicycle. He swung a back door open to allow her to toss in her backpack and duffel bag. As soon as she slammed it shut, he opened his passenger side door for her. Shockshell only let her sit in the driver's seat if it wasn't an emergency. Judging by the expression on her face, wide-eyed and pale, Meghan seemed to remember his unspoken as well. She got in and immediately put on her seatbelt. "I heard some of the upperclassmen talking. What's going on?"

"I really don't know," he said, making his holoform frown as he rolled the windows up. There were several ragged, burly male students eyeing him and Meghan with mirrored expressions that didn't comfort the Decepticon in the slightest. Barricade had warned him how humans could resort to violence against one another during times of crisis or panic. The _last_ thing he needed was to have three humans try to "steal" him in public, mostly because it would force him to cause a scene and cause everyone to flip their shit for a whole _different_ reason than the supposed epidemic. That, and there was always the potential that Meghan could get hurt in the process. At least his hologram was intimidating. He cast the humans a spiteful glare and they immediately shrunk away. Once they were clear of the jams, he pulled out of Colby-Sawyer College. Shockshell knew they were never going to see it again.

It took them longer than an hour to get back to Salisbury, even though the usual commute was only twenty minutes. Traffic was heavy and moved slower than Shockwave's gestalts that destroyed Crystal City on Cybertron. The entire trip was made in uneasy silence: Shockshell refused to turn on the radio. When they finally _did_ reach Meghan's hometown, everyone was already gone. The Crossroads Country Store was obviously ransacked and a lone horse, one of the ones belonging to the neighbor across the street, was casually meandering up the road. Another horse belonging to the same neighbor was standing on the front yard of Meghan's house. Silverwind – the Subaru Outback Autobot who was sent to "guard" Shockshell almost two years earlier – was missing from the driveway. So was Stormwatch, the Autobot Prius sent to be Silverwind's backup. The only car in the parking lot was the sad little Honda Fit, and no one was in the house. Meghan's mother, stepfather, brothers, and sister were gone. Not even the dogs or cat were there, although Meghan audibly speculated that her mother would never have been so cruel as to leave them. The pony was gone too, probably set free like the other two horses they had seen so far. They never saw him.

"Mom left a note on the counter," Meghan said after searching the house for her family and coming up semi-empty handed. She was holding up one of her mother's parking tickets crumpled parking tickets. It had been hastily scribbled on in red ballpoint pen. "It says they're going to Manchester to meet with Dad."

"Then that's where we're going," Shockshell said.

Under his instructions, Meghan raided the house for whatever supplies she could get without question: non-perishable foods, water bottles, extra blankets, batteries. Shockshell stood guard outside and made sure to keep tabs of his charge's heat signature as she navigated throughout the farmhouse. They left again after ten minutes, although not before stopping at the pet cemetery that Meghan set up in the back for her old, long since dead guinea pigs. Shockshell understood perfectly well that time was of the essence and that they needed to get moving _now_, but he couldn't deny his friend the small comfort of saying goodbye. It was potentially going to be the last time they ever saw Salisbury ever again as far as the Decepticon was concerned, and Meghan seemed to be on the same wavelength as him. She usually always ways: that was how they became friends to begin with.

They left Salisbury behind as a total ghost town. Boscawen, however, was a complete disaster. The Cumberland Farms was swarming with looters and the Sunoco was up in flames, but the chaos was only moderate compared to the highway. Route 93, southbound, was something out of Shockshell's _worst_ traffic nightmares. Both main lanes _and_ the breakdown lane were choked with cars, and trying to merge was almost entirely impossible because _no one_ would let him in. The only way for the Decepticon to force his way through was to speed up and shove his way into the crawling breakdown lane, clipping and nearly losing his side view mirror against another Impala: an incredibly ugly gold 2002 model. Everyone was bumper-to-bumper. Shockshell felt horribly claustrophobic the entire way, even _with_ the empty space leading into the woods next to him, but after less than five minutes of going down the road, traffic came to a complete standstill. Several truck drivers who were bold enough tried to pull out of the breakdown lane and drive through the clearing between the highway and forest, but even _with_ four wheel drive and four hundred plus horsepower, the late spring mud caused most of them to get stuck.

Fiddling in her seat, Meghan reached her hand for the radio dial.

"Don't," Shockshell hissed, jerking on his tires to make his point clear.

"_I just want to know what the fuck is going on!_" Meghan's shriek had been completely unexpected, as were the sudden flow of tears. He had obviously misjudged her silence throughout the trip from Colby-Sawyer to now as contemplative and cooperative. She had probably been highly distraught the entire time, although her emotions were so cleverly hidden that the Decepticon scout was never able to pick up on them. Her voice trembled and cracked. "Oh _fuck_, we're not getting _nuked_ are we?"

"Calm down," he urged, trying to maintain a calm tone of voice. "No country has launched a nuclear weapon. Please don't cry."

"Then _tell me!_" A sob wracked her body and she curled in on herself in the seat. "I want my _mom!_"

"There's some kind of epidemic," Shockshell said quickly, instantly tightening the seatbelt around her. It was practically an automatic reaction. Four years earlier, he would have _never_ responded to her in that way – not to a _human_ at least – but Meghan had proved herself to be more than a competent ally as they spent more time together. What started out as a loose, tense "partnership" where he promised not to kill her if she didn't expose him to the government eventually turned into mutual respect and legitimate friendship. Meghan could be lazy and incompetent and downright _stupid_ sometimes, but she was also a lot smarter that she let on. She was persistent in politics and had an ambition to her that made him think that, in another life, she might have made a half-decent Decepticon. It was that kind of trait that Shockshell learned to respect. As more time passed, he started to realize that he wouldn't go _anywhere_ without her. If he was Sherlock Holmes, then Meghan was Dawson. You couldn't have one without the other. That was why her safety was at the top of his current priorities, Autobot scum be damned.

"Shock_shell…_"

Meghan was hardly the type to break down whenever he was around, so he took her emotional state as a sign that it was in his best interest to start explaining himself. She would need to know sooner or later, anyways. The Decepticon shook himself out of his musings. "It started in Detroit early last night and somehow managed to migrate its way across the United States and to other continents. It's in Concord now."

Meghan shrunk back in her seat. He could feel her anxiety through his sensor net. "What kind of epidemic? It's not airborne, is it?"

"No, it's not airborne." He hesitated. "It's some kind of rapidly acting variant of rabies."

"Will we be okay?"

"Yes." A lie. He had no idea, but he was damn well going to do _everything_ in his power to make sure they were. That _she_ was. Meghan was all he had left now. The Decepticons were too far scattered in their cause and Megatron had disappeared again after the fiasco in Egypt. As far as Shockshell was concerned, the Great War was over. Now he had a new war to fight: to simply try to survive.

They sat in traffic for an entire half-hour before Shockshell finally registered something – or rather _several_ somethings – moving in the woods beyond the freeway. A slight trickle of people who had abandoned their cars further back the way they had come were starting to walk past them, but many were nervously glancing back and forth between the road ahead and the woods. Curious, Shockshell focused his sensors beyond his cabin and stretched the auditory range of his hearing as far as it would go. He could pick up on the angry conversations people were having inside their cars, the chatter of traveling pedestrians navigating up and highway, the frustrated shouts and cursing of the few truck drivers stupid enough to get stuck in the mud between the woods and pavement, but there was something else too. A rising commotion was coming from the woods: a white noise of rustling foliage and devilish howls, drawing closer and closer. Curious, the Decepticon flipped on his scanners.

His radar showed at least four, five, six dozen shapes rapidly rushing through the woods towards the highway. Shockshell focused his sensors in their, trying to determine what was out there, when a person violently and promptly rammed into his driver side window with enough force to shatter bones. Meghan started to scream and scrambled against the passenger side door.

Shockshell jerked back to awareness at the impact. "_FUCK!_"

His first thought was that the human was trying to get inside to steal him. The idea was rendered absurd when Shockshell realized the man, greying and somewhere in his late forties, wasn't actually trying to open the door: he was simply clawing at the window. The first thing he noticed was that the human was covered in blood and leaving stains of red from his hands all over him. A quick diagnostic scan revealed that he had no pulse. At first Shockshell thought it was a faulty result, but then he ran a similar scan on Meghan and everything came up normal… or as normal as it could be, with his human's heart rate escalating to dangerous levels in terror. Clearly, the infected man was _not_ sick with a deranged variant of rabies. Especially considering what Shockshell next noticed: the man clawing at his window was missing his right arm, his neck was shredded and exposing vocal chords, and the entire right-hand side of his face was _missing_.

The 4Chan posts Shockshell read about the infected assailants being "undead" sounded much more plausible now. Because, clearly, the man _was_ dead. Dazed, he wondered if Meghan still had that silly zombie survival guide on her. He doubted it.

On his left, the shapes he detected moving in the woods came running out. They were more humans, bloodied and screaming, galloping toward the highway. The rednecks and boisterous men who were trying to dig their trucks out of the soft ground were instantly swamped over, their assailants clawing and biting into their flesh and tearing into them, eating them alive. The howls of the zombies – and they _were_ zombies, as far as the general description went − were joined shortly afterward by the agonized screams of their victims. All around him now, Shockshell could hear the humans still in their cars and those hiking up the highway begin to panic. More zombies were coming from the left too, dodging around cars and lunging at those unfortunate enough not to be inside cars. Crying children were whisked up by their shrieking mothers, men were shouting, several dogs took off snarling and barking. All around them, people were being tackled to the ground and maimed. The entire highway delved into total chaos as several drivers attempted to take off by rear-ending other drivers in front of them. The red SUV in front of Shockshell gunned forward and smashed against the black Honda Accord blocking its path. Shockshell followed right behind it, trying to throw the ghoul on his window off as well as avoid potentially being rear-ended himself.

Then, in horror, he watched as another zombie appeared around the front of a truck in the next lane over. It was a blonde woman with her stomach torn open, spilling intestines and guts. She gave a howl, raised her arms, and charged toward the red SUV's driver side window. The window must have been cracked, because she hooked her hands through the top and pulled, shattering the glass and grabbing the woman who was driving. She dragged her partially out by her hair and sank her teeth into her head.

And as the zombie clawing at his window began to pound on the glass, Shockshell understood perfectly.

"Get out," he demanded. "Meghan, _get out!_"

"What the fuck _is_ that thing!" Meghan was sobbing. She was focused completely on the zombie trying to get into the car, oblivious to everything else around them. "Are you fucking _insane!_"

The ghoul suddenly smashed his face against the window. His skull gave an audible crunch from the blow, but so did the glass. Shockshell knew self-repair would eventually heal the large offending crack, but not before the rest of the zombies coming up from the woods to their right made it to him.

"FUCKING GET OUT RIGHT NOW OR ELSE THEY'RE GOING TO COME IN THROUGH THE _WINDOWS_, YOU DUMBSHIT!" Shockshell roared. The other humans scrambling to get out of their own cars and dodge zombies actually heard him that time, turning to look at him before resuming fleeing. Talking cars weren't a priority in their lives, right now. "_GO!_"

With a sob, Meghan pulled at her door handle, fumbled when she realized it was still locked, and dumped herself unceremoniously onto the pavement. The zombie saw her and proceeded to try and hurl himself over his hood to get at her. Shockshell counted his blessings and immediately initiated his transformation sequence, snatching his hand out to grab the offending man and toss him over the Honda truck parked next to him. He hastily stood on his hind legs, ignoring the renewed screaming around him, and immediately ducked down to snatch Meghan into his talons. Right in the nick of time, too: another zombie woman had hauled herself onto the pavement and was moments away from pouncing on her. The thing hissed at him once before he finally regained enough of his nerve to punt it all the way across the other side of the highway. He didn't care to see where it landed or if it even got back up.

He held Meghan to his chest, turned, and _ran_.

He jogged around humans and zombies alike, attempting not to trip on parked cars in his haste, before finally outrunning the massacre and continuing down I-93 for another ten miles. The humans further down the highway who were unaware of the chaos further up the interstate screamed and honk their horns in terror at _him_. He ignored them all. He ignored _everything_. All that mattered was that he was holding Meghan and running as if Optimus Prime himself was after them.

He got them off the highway immediately after that, sticking to the back roads in order to get to Manchester where Meghan's father and second stepfather live. It was a path Shockshell or Meghan were familiar with. The internet was down too, making looking up directions impossible, so they had to use the GPS Meghan's father got her for Hanukkah instead. At least the satellites were still working. Shockshell finally allowed themselves to listen to the radio too. Apparently, the entire country was a _mess_. All of New England was overrun and people were barely holding their ground against the hordes further west. Overall, it looked like the human to zombie ratio was growing larger and larger: the undead presumably outnumbered the living in all of North America by three to one, and that looked like it was going to change to four to one by nightfall. As for the rest of the world, that statistic was probably tipped even _worse_ in the livings' favor. The US military was spread thin trying to establish marshal law and maintain the rapidly dwindling peace, and power was lost to at least forty-five percent of the country.

"Will we still be okay?" Meghan asked. It was the first words she spoke since the incident on the highway. Her voice was cracked from strain, her eyes teary.

Shockshell revved his engine. He could still feel the blood on his driver's side door, as well as the crack running up the window. "I'll make sure we are."

They ran into more zombies as they went through the town of Franklin: a necessary bypass if they wanted to go to Manchester without taking I-93. Zombies openly prowled the streets, mindlessly bumping into one another as they searched out fresh meat. Or brains. Shockshell didn't particularly care what their preference in cuisine was: all he knew was that there numbers were thin enough to navigate around the shufflers and overturned without having to transform. However, by the time nightfall rolled around and they actually _did_ cross into Manchester, the numbers of the roaming undead drastically raised. A few times Shockshell had to speed up to avoid getting surrounded. While many of the zombies only moved at a walking or shambling pace, quite a few were definite runners. Once a zombie nearly launched himself onto his hood at a full sprint, and Shockshell scarcely dodged him as he landed and smashed his head against the pavement. As the roads became more and more dangerously clogged, Shockshell turned into a new mall lot that was under construction, transformed, and hauled himself and Meghan onto the roof of an incomplete JC Penny complex that would likely never be opened. He held her in his hands as she lay against him lifelessly, and the only thing he could do to console her was to play whatever music she had on her iPod before it can out of charge and finally died. Trying to find something else on the radio revealed that they were all dead air. No news reports, no tips on how to defend against the undead, _nothing_. Day One had passed and already the living world had turned to silence.

The rest of the night was filled with the chorus of the undead. Neither one of them slept.

As soon as the sun rose the next morning, they made a break for the Manchester house. Shockshell noticed most of the zombies were migrating north towards the highway. The Manchester house was southbound. Thank Primus. They only encountered four zombies on the way there, but the streets were littered with debris and gutted bodies that were too mutilated to properly reanimate. One zombie they encountered was missing both his legs and simply dragging himself across the road like some horrible parody of a turtle, trailing blood and gore behind him. The tip of his exposed, severed spine wiggled behind him in a manner that would have been comic in a b-rated Hollywood movie from the eighties. Shockshell ran him over and Meghan squealed in terror. By the time they turned onto Baricliff Way and turned into the driveway of Meghan's father's house, there wasn't a zombie in sight.

Unfortunately, neither was her father's silver Impala. They were already gone.

After a thorough search of the house, Meghan emerged visibly shaken. There was another note on the fridge telling her specifically that her father and stepfather, Paul and Bill, and the rest of her family from Salisbury were heading toward a "vault" in upstate Rhode Island: a secure underground bunker that would seal human survivors away for half a decade in order to "outlive" the slowly decaying zombie masses. There must have been a report about its existence on the radio or internet that Shockshell missed. Although the mere existence of the vaults to _begin_ with suggested that the government maybe knew more about the disaster than they were letting on, it certainly wasn't going to help to start questioning now.

They sealed themselves in the garage and spent the rest of the day there. It was beautiful outside and the sun was shining with the promise of a warm summer, but Meghan didn't want to be out there. Shockshell was hardly a fan of being locked up, but for the sake of his charge, shoved his own penchants aside and stowed himself away with her. They traded stories back and forth to pass the time, trying to catch up on the lost sleep from the night before while one or the other stayed awake and kept their guard up. No zombies came: not even when the sun finally set and cast the garage into total darkness. Meghan's dinner consisted of canned pears and a few muffins she swiped from the large cache she kept in her dorm room. Shockshell's consisted of drinking what little gasoline was left in the stupid lawnmower that didn't work but her father, for the longest time, insisted on keeping anyways. It wasn't until midnight that Shockshell curled himself on the floor and let Meghan sleep in a nest of blankets in the crook of his arm. They were safe. _She_ was safe. Shockshell thanked Primus and allowed his body to slip into a well-needed recharge while the rest of his sensors remained on high alert, least they get attacked in the middle of the night. They weren't.

On the morning of the third day, just as the sun broke over the top of the trees, they left Manchester behind and made a mad dash for Rhode Island. They barely ran into any traffic at all, save for the occasional roadblock that required Shockshell transforming and actually stepping over the obstacle. Most of those obstacles were wreckages, most with overturned school busses and cars, two with wrecked tanks and a few army marked Wranglers. Meghan saw only four zombies that day. Shockshell counted seven but never mentioned his higher count to Meghan. By the time they reached the general area of the address that Meghan's father left, they started to see other survivors. Weary women and their children stumbling in the street with tears. Men, bitter an angry. The rich shoving shoulders with the poor and outcasts. Dogs snarled and whined, horses' bits were covered with foam… and here they were, Shockshell thought, as helpless as the rest.

The sun was starting to set as Shockshell turned into a playground and put himself in park. "I can't go further than this, kiddo. The street is getting too choked up."

Meghan gripped his interior. In all the chaos, she must not have realized that they were going to have to separate. Her voice was more disbelieving and shocked than accusing which, as far as _he_ was concerned, Shockshell thought it ought to be. "You're leaving me?"

"We don't have a choice, Meghan," he said, suddenly feeling a sensation welling in his spark that he seldom felt. Sadness. It was not an emotion that he necessarily liked. "_I_ don't have a choice. Get to the vault safely and don't let anyone stop you."

She gripped the armrest on the door tighter. He could feel her body temperature rocket, and from what he could see from the eyes of his hologram, her eyes were slowly beginning to fill with tears. In the past three days, Shockshell had seen her cry more than he had in his entire time knowing her. It was disquieting and downright disconnecting to see such a strong human reduced to shambles: especially _his_ human. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Yes," he promised. "Someday, I'll find you. Just stay safe. Please."

"I love you."

He didn't hesitate. "I love you too. Now get."

Meghan finally got without looking back at his holoform, dodging around the other side to grab her luggage. Her hands passed briefly over the magnetic Decepticon sigil she made for him at the end of the previous summer. As she started off away from him, he heard her give a tremendous sob. It continued on until she disappeared in the growing, swelling crowd, and the 'Con was so caught up in his own rising sense of sorrow that he never noticed the opportunistic group of hoodlums until one of them tried to slip into his empty driver's seat. Shockshell snarled, slammed the door in his face, and took off down the road, spraying the men in a shower of woodchips and sand. To send Meghan one final message, he rolled down his windows and blasted _Sound of Madness_. He found an alleyway, parked, and fell into a furiously upset.

He was woken up by the sounds of screaming less than thirty minutes later.

It started as a low whine, gradually rising to the sound of full shrieking as waking him up with a slow start. The sun had disappeared over the rise of the buildings on either side of him, casing long shadows over him and onto the _mostly_ empty street in front of him: a few zombies had appeared, hobbling toward the sound of the horrible noise. The screams that he was hearing – from both the living and the dead – meant that not everyone had gotten into the vault in time before the zombies suddenly showed up. Where they came from hardly mattered. As long as there was the possibility that Meghan was one of them, he was _not_ going to abandon her.

He tore out of the alley and sped straight back, clipping an overturned Saturn and plowing through a twisted shopping cart.

Like a monster out of Hell, he gunned his engine and lunged down the road. The Decepticon took the next corner hard and his tires shrieked, catching the attention of several zombies. A bloated, obviously pregnant woman with a shredded petticoat and broken jaw snapped her head around and howled, blindly tottering toward him. He hit her with enough force to sever her legs and send her flying into the windshield. A web work of intricate fractures bloomed across the surface with the force of the blow. Her head exploded upon collision, sending a spray of dark blood and brain matter everywhere, before she rolled over his roof and bounced off – completely dead – onto the street. Another zombie, this one in a torn business suit and his right arm missing at the elbow, attempted the same stunt and was neatly run over. His insides burst and clung to the Decepticon's undercarriage like a sick layer of tar. The crowd of zombies was growing denser and denser, and as more of them turned on him, he transformed and kicked as many as he could out of the way mid-stride. A furious roar tore out of his vocalizer as he ran toward the entrance of the vault lot.

When he cleared the barbed wire fence leading into the concrete courtyard, his spark sank. The zombies that weren't crowding like angry ants around his ankles were flocking in the direction of the people trapped outside the vault's tightly sealed door. The humans that weren't screaming in agony from having the undead tearing into them were pressed up against railing leading over to the ocean. Shockshell knew already that any humans who jumped would simply hit the sharp rocks sixty feet down and die. He could already see several taking the plunge, but the rest of them were either too terrified or pressed too far against the high railing to move. Cries of terror rose from those humans in the back, watching in wild-eyed horror as the zombies tore through the outside ring of the crowd. Shockshell watched, awed and horrified, as ten zombies collectively tore into one teenage boy in particular who couldn't have been a day over Meghan's age, ripping his stomach open and pulling him apart like a bakery item. As they swamped over him, the girl who was behind him was pounced on next. Slowly but surely, the zombies were effectively eating their way through the trapped mob.

Even over the howls of the zombies and guttural death throes of humans, Shockshell was still able to hear the kitten squeak of a cry that carried over the chaos. "SHOCKSHELL!"

The Decepticon bellowed and surged forward, dropping his arms low and swiping aside any zombies shambling in his way. His talons sliced through their soft flesh and actually tore a few in half. Many of the ravenous ghouls were trying to futilely bite through his armor, completely oblivious to how he was completely editable, but Shockshell simply smacked them aside with enough force to smash them to pieces. Black blood flew up and stained his grey hide like a thick layer of paint. Ill smelling gore clung to his claws like rotting putty. Any other self-respecting Decepticon would have turned away and left in favor of avoiding the smell and sheer vulgarity of having to touch rotting organics that remained too stubborn to stay dead, but he had to get to Meghan. He _had_ to.

Several zombies, mostly runners, managed to push through to the back of the crown and were were tackling helpless humans over the railing now. They hitting the rocks below with sickening squelches and the prominent sound of snapping bone. Many more were tearing into humans from within the main throng and turning the once mostly human cluster into a total fuck-fest of carnage. Shockshell's eyesight wasn't bad per say and he knew his charge's appearance well enough, but trying to pick her out of the chaos was taking too maddeningly _long_: there wasn't time to delay. He had to find her _now_. Shockshell caught sight of a woman he at first thought was Meghan. She was being torn into brutally, nearly a dozen zombies filing around her and ripping out her intensities through her gutted stomach. He felt his spark effectively drop down to the soles of his feet until he noticed her hair was two shades darker than Meghan's, and that her flailing arms were missing the leather bands Meghan always wore.

Then he _did_ find her. He turned his head and saw Meghan, on the ground, desperately fighting off a zombie that had his teeth buried deep into her forearm.

Shockshell howled and leaped forward, swatting aside dying humans and zombies alike. He stepped on someone too, but whether or not they were undead or living hardly mattered. It was a mercy killing, anyways. He tore the zombie off Meghan and scooped her up into his opposite hand before another wave of zombies could throw themselves on top of her. Meghan was crying and gripping his thumb with her uninjured arm while he hoisted her up, and keeping her close to his chest, he turned and ran.

Meghan looked up at him blearily through her tears, clutching her bloody arm to her chest and staining her shirt bright red. If she said anything, it was completely drowned out over the zombie horde all around them. He kept running. And running and running and _running_, and he never once looked back.

**iv**

**The One Where Shockshell Introduces Himself to the Family**

Meghan was wringing her hands, looking absolutely horrified. He could barely blame her. "Um… well, I guess you already know who these guys are, right Shell?"

He nodded, gritting his teeth and trying his best not to glare at the humans gathered in his shadow. The fire they had all just barely escaped in roared several hundred feet behind them. A smoke stack from the industrial building creaked threateningly, then collapsed with a tremendous rumble and shake of the ground. Shockshell didn't need to turn and see it to know it had happened. "Right."

Meghan fidgeted again, turning to the group clustered next to her. "Everyone else… this is Shockshell. He's an alien robot. Obviously."

"Okay." Paul, Meghan's biological father, still did not look particularly convinced. There was little doubt in the Decepticon's mind that the middle-aged man was still in shock, but whatever. It would hit him soon enough: if not now, then later. He was the one who gave him to Meghan for her sixteenth birthday, anyways. If there was any human whom this situation was going to strike particularly hard at some point in time, it was going to be Paul. "Okay."

Bill looked considerably more wary, sticking close to his husband and sending Meghan a concerned glance. The usually bright and chipper gay man was uncharacteristically quiet, and not even the reassuring smile Meghan sent him looked to ease his worry. He cast Shockshell a sidelong gaze. "And how long as he been an alien robot?"

"Since Daddy got him at the auction," Meghan replied, acting as if it were the most natural response in the world. In a television show or in a book, the response would have definitely had a comical effect. "He, uh, introduced himself a few weeks after I got him. We got along pretty well."

Shockshell almost opened his mouth to say that he chased her five miles to the down dump and tried to _kill her_ but kept his vocalizer muted. Nope, that correction in her story wouldn't help their situation at all.

Frankly, unless Meghan's parents and stepparents decided _not_ to call the government on him, he and Meghan were royally fucked.

Shockshell was least concerned about Paul and Bill anyways, though. His _real_ concern came from Meghan's mother and her husband, Meghan's other stepfather, Kurt. Monique was currently at the forefront of the Decepticon's full attention. The small woman was pale faced and red rimmed around the eyes, holding her hand over her mouth in an all too open display of terror. Shockshell could practically _smell_ the fear radiating off of her, as well as feel her escalated heart rate and detect her discomfort through his sensor net. That fear wasn't particularly directed at him though, and that was what probably bothered him the most: the fear was for her daughter. At this point he'd been with Meghan for nearly five years, and if he really _did_ want to hurt her, he would have done it a lot sooner. The thought that Meghan's mother even _considered_ the possibility of him harming her left a sore spot on his pride.

"Rest assured," he began, directed at everyone but looking particularly at Monique, "I have no intention of harming any of you or your tiny organic offspring. I have been with her for almost five years. If I wanted to have harmed her, I would have already done so."

"He's saved my ass more times than I can count," Meghan added fondly, leaning against his bent knee casually. She looked up to meet his optics and grinned, wiping soot casually away from her brow. "But seriously, that speeding ticket I got in July three years ago? Yeah. That's still completely your fault, you bastard."

"Fuck you. I'm going to stick you in the highest tree I can find if you don't start being nice to me," he shot back, instantly fitting back into character with her, flashing a grin of his own and hoping it didn't look _too_ menacing. "I won't help you down anytime soon, either."

She grinned hugely and patted his armor affectionately. "You're such a gentleman, bud. Rescuing us from industrial fires and sticking me up in trees. Whatever would I do without you?"

It was an automatic reflex for him to return the grin, but he realized it was a mistake a second too late as he heard Monique gasp. His smirk always used to intimidate Meghan at best when they first met, and showing off a full grin, he sometimes forgot how absolutely wolfish he looked. Satan's most terrifying fiends were probably less scary than him. Monique's fearful step back away from him was testament to that.

Kurt was stone faced. Just as he never liked the redheaded man before, Shockshell was absolutely positive he liked him even less now. Kurt – who made Meghan miserable, who was unnecessarily cruel to her, who singled her out for stupid little things that made her absolutely hate him – was looking at him in a way that made the Decepticon's casing positively _itch_.

Shockshell lowered his gaze and focused directly at him. "Is there a problem, Mr. Olson?"

Kurt immediately reeled. He kept his feet firmly planted and otherwise made no motion to move, but the orange hair man visibly winced. Shockshell's spark pulsed triumphantly. "No. Not at all."

"Good," he said, not bothering to hide a slight snarl. He looked back at Meghan and nudged her with a claw. "We probably ought to move out before the fire department comes and sees me. Fires I can deal with. NEST is a different story."

"We're covered in soot," Meghan pointed out with a frown. "Your interior is white."

Shockshell shrugged. He wasn't a fan of the situation either. "You can spend five hours steam cleaning my interior later. You owe me. Again." He paused thoughtfully. "I'm pretty sure this covers the speeding ticket incident."

**v**

**The One Where Shockshell Dies**

From the very moment Shockshell leapt onto Sentinel Prime's back, a little voice screamed in the back of his head that he was a goner. He was completely unarmed save for his own teeth and talons, and he was a third of the elder Prime's size. Sentinel had nearly a billion stellar cycles more experience in fighting, too. It didn't matter that Shockshell had killed hundreds of Autobots with his bare hands and jaws alone, or that he was faster and more agile: Sentinel was a _Prime_ above all else, and Shockshell signed his death warrant taking him on.

The corrupt Autobot ancient gave a startled yelp, pulling away from Optimus before he could plunge his blade through his spark. He reached up and clawed blindly at Shockshell, and the Decepticon scout responded in kind by sinking his claws deep into the other mech's face. One talon plunged into an optic and Sentinel gave a brutal howl of agony, but his hand was able to find and clasp over Shockshell's wrist before the 'Con could leap away. Oh well. He asked for it. Shockshell braced himself as he was flung forward and had his arms twisted behind him. Unable to defend himself, he could only steel himself for what was about the happen.

He barely even felt the blade tear through his back, exploding out the other side right in front of his face through his chassis. There was a flash of light, a small explosion, some erupting energon from the severed fuel lines, but there was no pain. There _was_, however, a sudden feeling of numbness and floating. Then the pavement was suddenly rushing up to meet him as he was dumped unceremoniously off the blade. Whether or not Sentinel Prime would have finished him off or left him there was never answered for him: he could see Megatron rushing out of nowhere to land another volley of attacks on the Prime. Good. Shockshell had stalled him long enough for the _real_ cavalry to arrive.

There was the sudden sensation of something slapping his face. He reactivated his optics he never remembered offlining. "What…?"

"Shockshell!" No matter how loud the ringing in his audials was, there was no mistaking the vocal pattern of his best friend's voice. Meghan was hitting him against the faceplates with her open palm repeatedly. His sensory array dully told him that she was hitting him particularly hard, hard enough to potentially hurt herself, but he could barely feel it. Meghan tugged at one of his facial spikes, causing him to finally seek her out with his optics. She was red-faced and her eyes were glassy. "_Shockshell!_"

"I'll be okay," he muttered, which was a lie. The ground felt like it was getting warmer, although the Decepticon dully speculated that this was because of the alarming amount of energon pooling out of his body beneath him. He hoped Meghan would mind herself not to step in it: energon acted as a rather acidic property when exposed to humans. "Stop crying. I'll be fine. Where−?"

"Megatron and Optimus killed him," she sobbed, partially out of relief. She hugged herself close to his forehead and held on for dear life. "He's dead."

"Good," he snorted.

There was another hard slap against his face, and Shockshell opened his optics again. Once more, he never remembered shuttering them. The flesh around his charge's usually bright eyes was swollen and tears were cutting down her face at an alarming rate. It was a shame, he thought. Meghan was hardly what he would call _attractive_ when he first met her, but as far as humans were concerned, she had become very pretty over the years. Now she just looked like a mess. Her hair, finally grown long after he encouraged her to, hung over her eyes in greasy tussles. Her clothing and face were covered in a fine layer of dust, her lip cut and bloodied when she had to duck under an overturned Catalytic to avoid being stomped on by a rogue Decepticon that Shockshell was forced to dispatch… Meghan looked decidedly _revolting_ from what Shockshell imagined to be the human perspective, but he hardly cared. So long as she was alive, so long as he had done his job to protect her, that was all that mattered.

"Don't you _dare_ fucking fall asleep on me, asshole!" She slapped her hand against his face again. The blow was weaker than before. She was running out of energy, obviously. That, or the increased rate of her sobbing was causing her to lose her sense of equilibrium so she couldn't hit him as hard. There was also the probability he was losing feeling to his face, too. Whatever the case, it was pointless to mull over it. Meghan's knees were shaking and Shockshell vaguely wondered if she was going to collapse. "Son of a _bitch_, don't you _dare_ fucking _do this to me!_"

It was then that Shockshell realized that two shapes had appeared behind the girl, a little ways away. He never thought he would see the day where he got to meet Optimus Prime or Megatron in person, but for him to see them actually stand side-by-side _without_ trying to kill each other stood to be a much more rewarding experience. They were watching him intensely, watching Meghan's display and gauging it respectively. Optimus looked mystified and saddened. Megatron looked slightly revolted but definitely curious.

"Do me a favor, kid," Shockshell started out quietly, turning his blurring – failing – vision back to Meghan. He laughed a little and decided it wasn't such a good idea when it hurt. "Don't forget me."

"_Shut the FUCK up!_" Meghan screamed in his face. "You're going to be _fine!_ Just… just stop talking and wait until a medic shows up or something! The Autobots have a medic, don't they? He can help you! Oh God, _please_ hang in there, _please−!_"

"Stop," he murmured. He could feel himself slipping further, further down a slope where he knew couldn't claw his way back up. His systems were failing faster now, faster than what he could adequately keep up with. The Chevrolet Impala onlined his optics again, straining to make them focus on her as much as he could. Again, he never recalled deactivating them. They were harder to turn back on, too. "I love you, Meg. You're my best friend and I…and I love you. I'll see you later, kiddo."

The last thing he heard was her agonized screams of grief. Memories failed him and last thing he remembered altogether was name – not his own. Everything spiraled down into a hazy blur of warmth, and as his spark burned out, all he could do was shutter his optics and go to sleep.

He died with a grin on his face.

**Fin**


End file.
